


I'll Repair For You (When The Roof Starts To Fall)

by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone



Category: Comics RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Home Repair, M/M, Moving, Pining, Scotland, Scottish Character, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gerard inherits a house in Scotland from a distant relative, he doesn't expect to have to spend quite so much time at the hardware store. He also doesn't expect to fall in love with the tiny little village or with one of his neighbors...who just happens to be Grant Morrison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Repair For You (When The Roof Starts To Fall)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [I'll Repair For You (A Theme For Home Improvement)](http://www.azlyrics.com/y/yankovic.html) by Weird Al Yankovic
> 
> Many thanks and much love to [](http://tabulaxrasa.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**tabulaxrasa**](http://tabulaxrasa.dreamwidth.org/) for betaing this!

Gerard is in the middle of packing a shipment of minis one Wednesday afternoon when he gets a call from his mother. He picks up because talking to her is at least preferable to another paper cut from a USPS mailer. She says hello and fills him in on his dad and various cousins and the ladies at the beauty parlor for a few minutes, and he just hums and idly rifles through the stack of thumbnails he did that morning while he waits for her to get to the point. This isn't her usual call time so she must have one. Finally she pauses, hacks out her familiar smoker's cough, and says, "A letter came here to the house for you. Registered mail. From Scotland. Looks important." 

"Huh," he says. He has no idea who would send him a registered letter at his parents' house at all, never mind someone from Scotland. "Well, open it and tell me what it is, I guess." 

Unless it's _really_ important, there's no way he's getting out to Jersey before the weekend anyway. 

"Hmm," his mother says. He can hear paper rustling. "Your Uncle Arthur died." Gerard has never heard of an Uncle Arthur. 

"Huh?" he says intelligently. 

"Well, not an uncle. A distant cousin. But your father was young the first time they met and has always called him Uncle Arthur. He lives in Scotland. Well, he did. Got in touch with us recently. Very nice man, no wife or kids, knew a lot of family history," she rambles.

"That's great, ma," Gerard says, trying to be patient. "But why would there be a letter to me about it?" 

"Because he died," Donna says. "He was badly ill the last time he spoke to anyone in the family. And, well - it looks like he left you his house." 

Gerard is speechless. "...But why?" he asks, incredulous. 

"Because he had no one else. And he always did like your father." 

"Then why not give it to Dad? Why not Mikey?" Gerard asks. 

"What would your father and I do with a rundown Scottish house?" she asks. 

"But Mikey..." 

"You're his namesake, Gerard. And he was an eccentric old man. No one is saying you can't just sell it," she adds matter-of-factly. 

"I just..." he trails off and sits back in his chair. 

"It might be exciting," his mom says. 

He laughs a little hysterically. "I think that depends on how rundown it is, really. And how I'm defining excitement." 

*

The phone rings the next evening and it's Mikey. 

"Hey, moneybags."

"Fuck you. It's probably a dump," Gerard retorts. 

"Or it's awesome. And whatever it is, it's in Scotland."

"It should be half yours," Gerard frowns. 

"I don't want half of a dump," Mikey says witheringly, and Gerard snickers. 

"Fine, be that way." 

"You should go check it out, Gee. You know you can work from fucking Timbuktu if you want. And you were just saying last week that your rent is ridiculous. Go draw pictures of men in kilts and pay down your fucking loans for a while." Gerard hates it when his little brother gets all sensible.

"Okay, but what if it is a dump? Like, I can probably make some repairs myself, especially if I'm not paying New York rent, but I can't afford to completely renovate a house," Gerard says. 

"Well, you won't know until you go," Mikey says. "And if it doesn't work out, you can sell it and come home." 

"Since when are you all practical and shit?" Gerard asks crossly. 

"Since, I don't know, I realized one of us needed to be and it wasn't going to be you. Also, if you move to Scotland, that gives us all an excuse to come visit," Mikey says. 

Gerard huffs, but Mikey is right. "If this all crashes and burns, I'm blaming you." 

"Hah. I always have the good ideas," Mikey says smugly. 

The annoying part is...he's not wrong.

*

The house is actually pretty nice, all told. It needs airing out and there are a few things that obviously need repair, but it's not nearly as bad as Gerard was fearing. Uncle Arthur's solicitor jokes that Gerard might change his tune when it rains, but only after Gerard has signed all the papers taking possession of the house. Gerard grumbles, and buys a stack of plastic buckets at the hardware store, and puts his scanner and art supplies in the snug little front parlor instead of the garret, even though there's half the amount of room. 

When Gerard sends Mikey an email complaining about it, all he gets as a response is, "Ha ha ha." 

His first few days in Scotland are spent cleaning out Uncle Arthur's things and figuring out where he needs to take large loads of trash and things to donate. He's got mostly farms surrounding him and apparently his solicitor lives just down the road and keeps chickens, a couple of pigs, and has a truck; he offers to help Gerard with a few loads. It's all ridiculously quaint and Gerard is pretty charmed.

The solicitor was right about the rain. It starts raining on and off a couple of days after he gets there and he's putting out all his buckets and some of the bowls and pots and pans from the cupboards, too. On the first day that actually gets warm, Gerard decides to say fuck it to cleaning and patching and even penciling and throws on a pair of wellies and goes outside to explore the area on foot.

Uncle Arthur's house - Shalott, the small carved sign by the door reads, because apparently people name houses here and Uncle Arthur was a giant nerd - is right on the edge of the village. Gerard's solicitor, Mr. Adams, lives a bit farther out into the country past Milton. Gerard had noticed on a map that there's a Loch Bowie out there. That's enough to tempt Gerard, really. If nothing else, Mikey will think the pictures are hilarious.

He's got his camera hanging around his neck on the strap and the farther he goes, the clearer it is that these aren't roads he's walking on as much as footpaths with two muddy tracks where sometimes cars go. So, of course, Gerard trips over a rock in the middle and ends up down on one knee in the mud.

"Your wellies seem to have revolted," an amused Scottish voice comments from atop a nearby rise.

Gerard looks up and nearly falls over the rest of the way. Of fucking course Grant fucking Morrison is the one to find him in these stupid shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and wellies. In the mud. "Um. Yeah. I guess I'm not used to them yet."

"Country life is full of dangers," Morrison says, lips twitching. "You'd be our new American lad, then. I've heard the villagers buzzing about you."

"I guess that's me," Gerard says, standing again. "You're Grant Morrison," he blurts out. He knew Morrison lived in the area - the locals love to gossip, and when they found out what Gerard does for a living, they were all surprised he and Grant hadn't met already. This was not how Gerard pictured it happening. He tries not to visibly cringe at himself and Morrison just smiles wider at him. 

"Are you a fan, then?"

"I'd say colleague, but that might be going a little far. I'm an artist, though - Gerard Way." Gerard offers his hand, then grimaces at the layer of mud on it and wipes it off on his shorts. Morrison laughs, takes the last few steps down to the verge and reaches out to shake hands.

"Any work I'd know?" Morrison asks as he shakes Gerard's hand. 

"Been mostly doing indies and self-published stuff. I write a little, too - did some work for Dark Horse recently and I just signed on to do a few issues of _JLA_ ," Gerard explains.

"Dark Horse - Gerard Way, of course! I read _Umbrella Academy_ , you know. Amazing book. It's a pleasure, Mr. Way." 

"Gerard, please," Gerard blurts. 

"And you must call me Grant," Grant replies. "Now, you really must explain what brought you to the Lowlands. I must have missed a critical piece of gossip." His eyes twinkle, and Gerard can't help but grin back.

"It's kind of ridiculous, really," Gerard says. "A distant cousin of my dad's that I've never met left me his house. Arthur Walker. I figured I'd see what I could make of the place."

"What an adventure," Grant comments, and Gerard laughs. 

"More like a sick domestic version of some video game, shuffling buckets under roof leaks. I had to get out of the house while I could actually see the sun for once. A little too ambitious of me, apparently." 

"Nonsense," Grant says. "We all go a bit crazy on the sunny days. Even I ventured outside," he gestures to himself. "And how fortunate. I can offer a cup of tea to a weary traveler. It's just over that rise and back down a bit," Grant points.

"I'd like that," Gerard says and follows Grant up the hill. They pause at the top and Gerard catches his breath and wishes for a cigarette and looks around. "Fuck, it's gorgeous here." 

"That's why I stay," Grant says. "I admit I decamp to Los Angeles every winter to tend my film interests, but I find it difficult to write there. Here I have my crumbling old house, my views of the wood and the loch... well, there she is," he says, gesturing at the Scottish baronial house rising from the hillside. 

"Wow," Gerard says, stunned.

"She's fucking freezing most of the time. Luckily, my office is the warmest room of the drafty old girl," he says. "I've been fixing her up room by room over the years." 

"Any tips?" Gerard asks with a grin. 

"Hire people to do the hard work for you," Grant jokes.

Gerard groans. "It's all hard work when you're used to living in a studio in Queens," he says. "I have a garden now. I have trees. With fruit on them!" 

Grant laughs at him. "They won't bite, I'm fairly sure. Now, come inside for tea and a chat and we'll see if we can't get you feeling a bit better about your Scottish adventure." Gerard follows Grant up the back steps; he pulls open a door and leads Gerard into the kitchen and adds, "Actually, I prefer coffee, but if you want authenticity in the experience, I can make you tea." 

"Coffee's fine. Coffee's good. I think my blood is seventy percent coffee and I was getting a little low," Gerard replies. Grant grins. 

"Coffee it is. Now, have a seat." 

"This whole owning a house thing and getting that sorted _has_ been kind of an adventure. Uncle Arthur seems like he was a cool guy. I'm sorry I never knew him. And everyone I've met has been so kind and friendly."

"Well, they're curious," Grant laughs. "Before you came along, I think I was the newest resident. I attracted my fair share of attention." 

"I know," Gerard admits. "The locals like to talk about you, too. I couldn't believe it when I heard you lived here."

"Well here I am in the flesh. We'll be the weird outsiders everyone's fond of anyway," Grant says with a smile and hands Gerard a cup of coffee. "Cream? Sugar?" 

"Both, please," Gerard says. "At least you're Scottish. I don't think they know what to do with me at all. At least I can mostly understand them now. Apart from the slang."

Grant laughs. "Only one cure for that, laddie. Make friends with the locals. You can start with me," he winks. "And I'll introduce you around. Have you done much visiting in Glasgow? You must meet Vince - Frank Quitely," he adds, and Gerard's eyes widen. This is surreal.

"I'd love that. I haven't had time to go much further than Clydebank yet. Mostly I've been sorting everything out and trying to make the house livable for me. I have done a little exploring in the village, but there's not much there. Well, not much I know about. It seems like the sort of place to have all sorts of interesting local secrets." Gerard grins and drinks his coffee. 

"Aye. We've got a fair few," Grant says, playing up his accent.

"You said you were a newcomer," Gerard says, raising an eyebrow. 

"I'm a fast learner," Grant says back, taking a sip of coffee and raising his own brow.

"And I bet you charm all the old ladies into giving up their secrets within moments," Gerard says. 

Grant bursts out laughing. "That's been known to happen. But don't underestimate your own charms." 

Gerard looks down at himself. "I'm not sure how many secrets people would be willing to give up to someone who looks like a delinquent."

"You should say 'charmingly eccentric'," Grant tells him. 

"Is that what you are? You're not even wearing a kilt. Charming Scottish eccentrics should at least have a kilt."

"Perhaps I do, young Gerard. Perhaps you've just caught me on an off day and I normally knock about in a bit of the plaid." He's emphasizing his burr now, and Gerard laughs.

"Not sure if I believe all that, Grant."

"Hang about some more, perhaps I'll convince you," Grant replies. They both sip their coffee, and Grant reaches for a scrap of paper. He sketches out a quick map and hands it over to Gerard. "When you come visit me again, this is the way to my house that doesn't require hill climbing. Do you have a car?"

"I do. It's tiny and, well, sort of a piece of shit, but I've got one. It's really fucking hard to get used to driving on the other side of the road, by the way. Completely bizarre. I'm glad I haven't had to drive much on any busy roads." Grant chuckles, and Gerard puts his face in his hands. "I'm not doing a very good job of convincing you I don't need a bubble or something, am I?" 

"I was going to offer to drive you home. I assure you I intended to all along," Grant smiles. 

"Now? I really don't want to be in your way," Gerard says. 

"You're not. I like guests. You must come back and visit again, Gerard. And I did promise to introduce you around."

"You did. Thanks for," he waves his hand around, indicating the coffee and everything else. "It's nice to have a friendly conversation with someone that doesn't involve buying something or arranging to have loads of trash picked up." 

"I am happy to help you in any way I can," Grant says. "Moving just across the street can feel strange and overwhelming, nevermind moving to another country. And I've done both. Just say the word." 

*

He'd been out kind of early, so by the time Gerard gets home, it's just about late enough to call Mikey. And holy shit is he glad his mobile carrier has decent international rates, because he's been calling Mikey a lot. "So, you know how I told you that apparently Grant Morrison lives around here somewhere? I found him today. Or. He found me." 

Mikey laughs. "Of course you did. You have all the luck." 

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what an ass I made of myself." 

Gerard tells Mikey the whole story, and Mikey snickers about as much as expected, but when Gerard finishes he replies, "It wasn't as bad as you think it was, Gee. Plus you really are sort of colleagues. Don't sell yourself short, and don't refuse to call him for whatever idiot reason you're coming up with right now." 

Mikey knows him too well.

"Yeah, yeah," Gerard says and they spend the rest of the call talking about other things. Gerard complains about work deadlines and Mikey makes encouraging noises at him over the speakerphone as he gets ready for work. They hang up and Gerard gets started on his thumbnails. In all, he feels pretty decent about the day. 

*

Gerard's mobile rings Friday around lunchtime and he swipes gingerly at the screen with an ink-stained finger to answer. He stammers a bit when he sees that the caller is Grant. "H-hi. Hello." 

"Grant calling," Grant says. "Is this a bad time, Gerard?" 

"No, just - inking. Give me half a second." Gerard wipes his fingers off the best he can on his shirt - it's black - and picks the phone up. "Okay. How are you, Grant?" 

"Just fine, lad. I know it's last minute, but how would you like to pop down to Glasgow with me tonight? I've plans to meet a few mates, including Vince."

"That'd be awesome," Gerard says. "What kinds of plans?" 

"Dinner and beer at our favorite pub. Might pop out to a club, but we'll play that by ear," Grant explains. 

"That sounds really great. Um. Should I come to your place?" 

"I can pick you up. Wouldn't want you to get lost driving over," Grant teases. 

They set a time for later that afternoon, and Gerard stares at his Bristol board for a good five minutes after they hang up, wondering how he can concentrate on his work now. Glasgow is barely a half-hour's drive away, but Gerard is so petrified of his rattletrap car that he's barely made the trip since he arrived. And Grant Morrison! Still, he manages, and when he hears a car in his lane he quickly scrubs his hands and throws on a leather jacket so he can meet Grant outside. His house is a disaster. 

Grant leans over and pushes the passenger side door open for him and greets him with a happy, "Hello!" Gerard grins. 

"Hi. I'm glad you called, otherwise it would have been another night of inking until I couldn't tell up from down anymore." 

"Glad to save you from such a fate. You can commiserate with Vince. He's been working on covers for me lately." 

"I love doing covers," Gerard says. "What I don't love at the moment are chase scenes that take place at night, in a sewer." 

"I've been guilty of that," Grant says. "Must I call Klaus Janson and apologize?" 

"Maybe a fruit basket. Or a hand massage," Gerard replies thoughtfully. 

"Ah, well, it's probably too late for him, poor man. Perhaps not for you." Grant nudges Gerard's hand with his fingers. His hand is back on the gear shift a moment later, but Gerard forgets to breathe for a moment.

 _Oh_. That could get inconvenient. Gerard takes a breath and just smiles at him. "I wouldn't say no. It's worse when it's a crowd scene, though. And I prefer to hand draw and ink, so I can't even cheat and fill out the crowds in Manga Studio," Gerard says. 

"If we ever do a book together, I'll be sure to keep the crowd scenes to a minimum. Or just come 'round to yours and give you hand massages nightly," Grant says. 

_Not. Helping._ "Do you promise that to all your artists?" Gerard drawls. 

"You could ask Vince," Grant replies. "On second thought, do not ask Vince. On third thought, let's turn around, it's probably a bad idea to let you meet Vince. He's known me for far too long and will delight in blackening my name."

Gerard laughs. "I think you mean that's precisely why we _should_ meet." 

Grant cuts him a look and turns onto the main road toward Glasgow. "We've only just met and you're already taking the piss." Gerard attempts to look innocent, but he knows he fails when Grant starts laughing. "Ah well, it's not like my reputation started out spotless."

Grant asks about where Gerard's from and his family and he babbles about Jersey until they get into Glasgow. "Actually, Glasgow has a lot of the same feel as Jersey." 

"All the muggings?" Grant jokes. 

Gerard laughs. "You said it, not me. I'm pretty sure they won't kick you out of the country." 

"They tried," Grant intones. "I keep coming back like a bad penny. Ah, here we are." The pub they pull up in front of is appropriately quaint and dingy. "Appearances can be deceiving," Grant says with a wink. "Best chips in Scotland."

"I'm from Jersey and I work in comics. I know all about deceiving appearances," Gerard says and gets out. Grant leads him through the pub and past a bunch of families with kids. Gerard still does a double-take whenever he sees kids in pubs, but he supposes he'll get used to it eventually. Suddenly Gerard remembers that he's about to meet one of his heroes and his stomach swoops just as they step up to a corner booth.

"Hullo lads," Grant greets the three men seated inside. "Brought some new blood. This is Gerard Way from New York. He landed in my village a few weeks ago and he's -" 

"- An artist for DC," Vince finishes. Gerard recognizes Vince Deighan AKA Frank Quitely on sight, of course, but he's momentarily stunned silent. Vince knows his name. "I saw some of your alternate covers recently. Nice work."

"Thank you so much!" Gerard says, beaming. Hopefully he can keep the gushing to a minimum. "I… have basically loved everything you've ever done." Okay, could be worse. 

Vince rubs a hand over his head and grins. "Thanks. Since Grant is eavesdropping, I'll say I owe a lot to being part of a great creative team." 

"Smooth," Gerard replies. 

"Newbies buy a round," one of the other men says with a wink. He introduces himself as Tom, one of Vince's studiomates, and the third man as Gary. Gerard obligingly stands a round and orders fish and chips on Grant's suggestion.

Things are a bit of a blur after that and Gerard's not even drinking. There's lots of laughter and teasing, especially of Gerard when it suddenly occurs to him that Gary is Gary Erskine who's done a ton of awesome art for a lot of Gerard's favorite comics. He catches Grant smiling broadly at him a few times and feels pretty good about how he's fitting in with the group. 

They do end up going out to a club later, minus Tom and also Vince, who has to get up early with his kids the next morning, and Gerard is treated to an hour or so of Grant talking music directly in his ear. It's tortuously distracting. Grant keeps the stereo in the car low on the way home, and Gerard says contentedly a few miles from home, "Thanks for this." He still misses Mikey, and his family, and his friends in New York, but it's easier this way.

"Anytime," Grant says. "I mean that. And if you ever just need a change of scenery, feel free to bring your things over and steal a chair in my house." 

"I'd offer the same, but I'm pretty sure my work station is the only spot in the house where you wouldn't get dripped on at the moment," Gerard replies. 

Grant laughs. "Perfectly all right." 

*

Gerard comes out of the hardware store and onto the High Street laden with necessary supplies. He's fumbling, trying to keep a grip on his bags while getting his keys out of his pocket when he hears his name. 

"Gerard Way! Steady there." A hand removes a couple of the more precarious bags and he looks up to see Grant, a cotton tote slung over his shoulder and a smile on his face.

"Grant! Hi!" he says and manages to hold out a hand to shake Grant's. 

"Hello! I see you've been sorting your house. What do you say I hold these bags hostage and we find lunch?" Grant asks as he shakes Gerard's hand. 

"That sounds great," Gerard replies. "How hard will it be to find?" 

Grant laughs. "Not hard at all. The pub two doors down is my favorite."

"Lead on, then," Gerard says with a grin. They make the short walk down to the pub and get settled. Grant recommends several dishes, all vegetarian. 

"The vegetarian items on the menu are why it's my favorite," Grant explains. "Friends tell me the fish and chips are good. Also the roast beef." 

"Roast beef, that sounds good. Sorry," he adds. "I promise I'll listen to any other advice you want to give me." 

"Nothing springs to mind," Grant says, telling the waitress his order and taking the pint she hands him.

Gerard pours cream and sugar into his coffee and takes a sip. "I don't mind vegetarian, though. I mean, I've done it myself a few times. But it never sticks. I have almost as hard a time sticking to vegetarianism as I do quitting smoking. Well. That's an exaggeration. Quitting smoking is next to impossible." 

"I believe you'd laugh if I were to lecture you about substances, so I'll refrain. I'm much more interested in what exactly you've got in those shopping bags of yours. Felt like bricks."

"Um. A spare battery for my drill, a new hammer because the head, ah, flew off the one that I had, and a wrench set. Well, those were the heavy things. Oh, and a few pints of paint. Because I am indecisive and have to paint a patch on the wall before I paint a whole room," Gerard says. 

"Unsurprising for an artist," Grant says. "How's your other work coming? I drove past your little cottage the other day. Looks rather snug from the outside."

"I'm doing okay with the comics stuff for the most part. Blocked myself on _Umbrella Academy_ , but I keep poking at it and things are finally coming back together. The house is… there's a lot of potential there. I'm kind of in love with the idea of it. Right now it… needs help," he explains. "The DC stuff comes first, since that's on a publishing timetable. You know how it is. The other stuff... just happens. I cleaned the house the other day and there were post-it notes sort of all over the house."

Grant laughs. "I tend to keep notebooks with me for those things. If I did post-it notes, I fear my home would turn into _A Beautiful Mind_." 

Gerard laughs. "Who's saying mine wasn't? Anyway, that's what's going on. Ooh," he breaks off as the waitress sets a plate in front of him. They're silent as they take their first bites and savor them. "You can tell your friends they were right about the roast beef," Gerard adds. 

"I'll do that. Or just introduce you so you can tell them yourself," Grant replies. "That reminds me, Vince keeps asking when I'm sending you to his studio for a visit. Apparently mere writers aren't invited," he pouts jokingly. Gerard can't help but beam. 

"Really? That'd be awesome. I mean. I'm sure we can make it up to you." Grant chuckles and pats his arm. 

"You'll like Vince's studiomates too. They're a great group." 

"So, what did I interrupt for you this morning?" Gerard asks, nodding at Grant's carryall. 

"Nothing much. Just picking up a few essentials from the shops. Coffee and the like," he says. "Certainly less interesting than pints of paint. You've improved my errand running exponentially." 

"Yeah, I totally intended that," Gerard grins. 

"I thought you might've done," Grant says. "So considerate of you to have centered your own errands on improving my day." 

"I do what I can." Gerard nods decisively and takes a bite of his food. The bartender strolls over and strikes up a conversation with them while they eat, and Gerard gets an earful of who's sleeping with who and whose nephew is flunking out of school and who's having a baby. Grant listens attentively and offers input when appropriate and it's really kind of sweet. Gerard tries to keep up. 

When they're finishing up and walking back outside Gerard says, "I've never lived in a place this small. Never wanted to. But I can see why people like it." 

"It's about the opposite extreme from LA, it's true. But everyone has a story. I like people who have stories to tell." 

He would, Gerard thinks. Of course he would. "I bet it's ridiculous when you come back from LA every year," Gerard says. Grant grins. 

"Oh, it is. I have to budget at least twice the time I'd regularly need for any given activity in order to leave time for everyone to catch me up. That's not even counting everyone in Glasgow who I need to visit. Well," he says, "Enough about me. Tell me more about you and yours, Gerard Way." 

"I'm half Italian. So my family is big and boisterous and basically your typical Jersey Italian family. My immediate family is a little bit quieter, though. My best friend is my brother, Mikey. He's the one who convinced me to try this out, actually," Gerard tells him. 

"You mention your grandmother frequently in interviews," Grant prompts. 

"Been reading up on me?" Gerard asks, biting his lip while he thinks of how to describe Elena. 

"Just a little bit," Grant replies, leaving a few folded bills on the table and gesturing to Gerard to precede him out of the pub. "You needn't answer if you'd rather not." 

"No, it's fine. She was... she was the one who encouraged me to draw and sing and express myself. She supported me in every way possible. I... did not handle it well when she died." 

"The interviews mentioned drugs." Grant's face shows nothing but a calm interest. 

"And booze. You name it. It was a bad time. But I pulled myself out of it, and the comics were there. More than they'd ever been." 

"I'm glad to hear it," Grant says quietly. He leads Gerard to a pretty little green space and they sit on a bench. 

"It's not an issue really anymore. The drugs were my biggest problem, looking back. I was heading to a pretty serious place. I'd do cocaine to get high and I'd use alcohol to bring myself back down." Gerard runs a hand through his hair. "I've just been working ever since. Working hard. Made up for the chances people gave me even though I screwed a lot of them up." 

Grant smiles and squeezes his shoulder. "Bet your grandma would be proud. And probably your uncle Arthur, too." 

Gerard blinks a bit and smiles. "Did he regale you with tales of his leaky roof every time you came back home?" 

"I didn't know him that well - I understand he was fairly ill for some time. But I had occasion once or twice to borrow from his library." 

"I'm glad. I wish I'd known him. Or even known about him. Dad wasn't much of a talker. I think Ma probably talks enough for both of them. I guess I take after her in that way. And Mikey tends to be more like Dad." 

"You, a talker?" Grant teases. 

"Guess that's why I like to write sometimes," Gerard says, undisturbed. "Want everybody to listen to me." 

"You're rather good at capturing attention," Grant says with a smile and a lifted eyebrow. "Tell me about your brother." 

"He's three years younger than me. Still lives in Jersey, near - not with our parents, thank god. Helps our friends run a record label. Knows everyone from Newark to Philly." 

"And you miss him?" Grant asks. 

"More than anyone else," Gerard replies. "He's pretty much the best. I want him to come visit, but it will have to wait a while." 

"I said before that it was an adventure to move to a new country," Grant says, a little quieter. "I should have added that it's also brave." 

"What's that phrase about the line between stupidity and bravery?" Gerard jokes, then adds, "I suppose you're right. I feel like the things that made it brave aren't things I was worrying about at the time I made the decision." 

"But you made it. And I'm glad." 

Grant really has a beautiful smile, Gerard thinks to himself. "I am too," Gerard says, smiling back. 

"As delightful as this chance meeting has been, I fear I must return your bags and head for home," Grant says after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

"Well, I guess that's allowed," Gerard laughs. "Thanks for the meal and the company." 

"Any time. Perhaps next we shall arrange to meet on purpose. I'll call you about visiting Vince?" 

"Definitely!" Gerard replies and then they're at his car. Grant helps him get everything in the trunk, or "boot" as Grant says, and they part ways. Gerard doesn't stop smiling the rest of the way. 

*

The day Gerard goes to visit Vince, it rains hard. All day. Gerard holds his steering wheel tight in both hands and tries not to panic when he has to consult the directions Grant wrote out for him. He chews his lip, eyes locked on the streaming windscreen, and repeats one word over and over. Brave. Brave. This will be worth it. 

When he pulls up in front of the studio, he just sits there for a few minutes to calm down. He unclenches his hands from the steering wheel and flexes them, then opens the door and squares his shoulders. Vince opens the door for him on his first knock. 

"Gerard, mate! So chuffed you could come." 

Gerard grins. "Not gonna lie, I was a little worried about getting here for a minute, but I made it." 

"Well, come in, come in. I think one of the guys just set the kettle going if you'd like some tea," Vince says, leading him into a large room with several workstations with art in various degrees of completion at each one. 

"Tea would be great," Gerard tells him. "And - wow!" 

Vince grins and spreads his hands wide. "Home away from home, this. Shall I introduce you around?" 

"Please!" Gerard says and Vince leads him around the room, introducing him to everyone. He gets caught up talking about art and their processes and is surprised when Vince presses a mug into his hands. 

"You'll have to get your own sugar and milk if you want it," Vince says. 

"I can manage," Gerard assures him. When he's done doctoring the cup, Vince leads him over to his own workstation and pulls a chair over for him. 

"Is himself still annoyed I didn't invite him along?" he says in a fondly mocking tone. Gerard laughs. 

"Only mildly. I think he was secretly happy to set it all up." 

"It's easier to talk about him when he's not here," Vince says. 

"Ooh, does this mean I get all the dirt now?" Gerard asks. 

"There's a lot of dirt," Vince says. "I'm not sure we have time for _all_ of it today." 

"I'll settle for smaller amounts of dirt, I suppose," Gerard says. 

"He's actually pretty shy," Vince says. "He doesn't always take to new people so quickly." Gerard bites his lip and tries not to grin too hard. 

"I'm glad he took to me. It's good to have a friend so close." 

"I don't doubt that." 

"So you have a family, right? Kids?" Gerard asks. 

"Aye. Little hellions. Wife's a saint. Don't know how she puts up with any of us. You a single lad, Gerard?" 

"I am. I am presently married to my work and my rickety old house," Gerard says. "Speaking of work, you should show me yours." 

"My work?" Vince asks. "Of course. Roll that chair over here." He opens a portfolio and Gerard soon loses all track of time. Vince shows him a lot of original pencils from various books. It's amazing and really fucking encouraging to see all the blue lines peaking out from under the inks. 

"Did you ever consider writing?" Gerard asks. 

"Not until more recently. Grant usually stretches my imagination as it is," Vince says. Gerard laughs. 

"I'd love to see one of his scripts one day." 

"They're... a challenge. And I'm lucky enough to know him and harass him if I need to. Others don't have that advantage," Vince says.

"The artist for Umbrella Academy - Gabriel - he's Brazilian. We worked on Skype a lot." 

Vince laughs. "If Grant could only do the same...he's notoriously closemouthed, unless you have the good fortune to get him on the phone." 

"Or corner him at the local and ply him with good beer?" Gerard asks. Vince grins. 

"Or that. For all he's worldly and travelled and understands technology, he's rather resistant to using it. In some ways, he's very old fashioned. He'd prefer to speak with someone face to face the vast majority of the time. Of course," Vince laughs, "So am I. The digital revolution passed my drawing board by." 

"I can and do work digitally if I need to for whatever reason, but I really prefer my bristol board and the scratch of pencils and ink," Gerard says. "It's more... satisfying." 

"Knew I liked you," Vince says with a crinkly smile. "Need more tea? Fancy a sandwich or something? More portfolios?" 

"I could probably sit here looking at your portfolios all day and be happy. Don't let me keep you from work or anything," Gerard says. 

"Tea, then, and I'll send you home to your village before dark." They drink tea and chat for several more hours. Vince works and Gerard looks at portfolios and just fucking watches him at times. It's fucking incredible. Vince is a master. And he tells stories while he works. Stories of gigs with Grant, meeting stupidly famous people like Robbie Williams.

Gerard has his own stories, and he tells a few, but mostly they talk shop. It turns out Vince knows some of his professors from SVA. It's a really fun afternoon and Gerard is surprised when the rest of the guys in the studio start packing up for the evening. "Oh! I should probably let you get home to your family," he says. 

"Yes, there are meals to cook and baths to give and stories to read," Vince says. "But it was nice, Gerard. Come again!" 

"I will definitely do that." Gerard beams and reaches out to shake Vince's hand. 

"Perhaps next time we can even allow himself to join. Maybe do lunch," Vince says. "That's how you Yanks say it, right?" 

"Yeah, that's it. And absolutely. It'd be fun to chat with both of you more." Vince walks him down to the door and tells him to drive safe and Gerard is on his way. In the rain. Clutching the steering wheel, but smiling.

*

Over the next two months, Gerard paints half the rooms in his house, learns how to replace linoleum, totally fails to learn how to fix a leaky faucet, and accidentally breaks a window - but thankfully nothing else - with a rickety bookcase.

Grant calls him as he's sweeping up the broken glass.

"What on earth are you doing?" Grant asks after a moment. 

"Sorry. Sweeping. I, uh. Well, let's just say I shouldn't move furniture by myself," Gerard says sheepishly. 

"You shouldn't because I am two minutes away and will come if you need help," Grant replies. 

"Too late now," Gerard grumbles. "I guess you can come hold the sheet of cardboard I'm going to have to cover this windowpane with, but you're probably busy."

"I am only marginally busy and can do you better than cardboard. I have some plywood boards knocking about in my shed. I'll bring them," Grant replies. 

Gerard thanks him, hangs up, and sighs at the window one more time then goes downstairs to start a fresh pot of coffee. Grant shows up about ten minutes later with a piece of plywood and a tin of Gerard's favorite tea biscuits.

"You are my favorite person," Gerard says fervently and makes Grant a cup of coffee. "Cookies first. Then hammering."

"Kinky," Grant says, picking up the cup and blowing over the surface before taking a sip. Gerard bites his lip and turns back to the coffeemaker. 

At least half their meetings involve caffeine in some form or another. Every time they're at each other's homes, there's coffee, tea when Grant takes Gerard to visit friends, and still more coffee for Gerard when they go into Glasgow for evenings with the guys there. 

When he's not visiting with Grant, he's doing pages and covers for his DC projects and skyping with Gabriel or Mikey. And still—forever—trying to get his house in better shape while also making his other bills and sending a little extra to the loan companies, and emptying uncountable buckets of water from the garret when it rains, which is...a lot of the time. 

Sometimes Mikey calls him. Probably because Gerard is still shit about the time zone conversion. He tries to call his parents at least once every couple of weeks. His mom's conversation topics don't change no matter where he is, so he gets an earful about the salon and the relatives and the neighbors. His dad asks him about the house and Gerard updates him on the progress. He doesn't tell him about all the things that went wrong since the last call. Most of them are fixed by that point, anyway. For certain values of the word fixed. 

Comic-Con comes and goes; Gerard doesn't go, because it's too expensive and he doesn't have any new projects. Grant doesn't go either, which makes Gerard feel better, strangely, even though he knows it's not really about him. They get together with the other local comics professionals and have a big dinner and there's lots of drinking and laughter. Which is always the best thing about Comic-Con anyway. He misses seeing Gabriel and Fabio most of all, but they promised to come to at least one European con, so he's happy. 

He gets the urge to wander one afternoon; it's a nice day so he decides to go for a drive. He meanders around country roads until he gets hungry, then stops for lunch in the next village he comes to. It's a pretty typical Scottish village, but when Gerard is done eating he isn't ready to go home yet. He walks along the high street and goes into a few of the shops. He grins when one of them turns out to be a second hand store. 

Gerard spends about fifteen minutes flicking through a giant rack of t-shirts, looking for band tees to send to Mikey, and about fifteen more reading the backs of paperback books. He's just about ready to take his things up to the till to pay when he sees the sunglasses in a glass case. Gerard fucking loves vintage sunglasses, but the first pair that catches his eye isn't even his style. They are totally Grant's style, though.

He puts them on the counter and tries on a few pairs that _are_ his style, but doesn't end up buying any of them except the pair for Grant. He decides to just stop by Grant's place on his way home and and give them to him right away. Grant smiles when he sees Gerard on the doorstep. 

"Hullo, Gerard. What's the occasion?" 

"Tuesday," Gerard answers. "I played hooky today and I've been driving around all day. I bought you a present."

"A present?" he asks, ushering Gerard inside. "Is Tuesday a present-giving occasion now?" 

"Yes," Gerard replies. "But mostly, I was in a vintage shop in Cardross and saw these and thought of you." 

Grant takes the tissue-wrapped bundle, hesitates, then keeps walking through his kitchen and out into his back garden. "Since it's fine today," he explains and sits in one of a pair of wrought iron chairs.

Gerard sits across from him. "That's why the hooky, really. Didn't want to stay inside today." He watches as Grant carefully unwraps the sunglasses and laughs when he sees them. He slips them on and makes his patented "cooler than everyone" face. "They look good," Gerard says. "I thought they would." Grant smiles and reaches across to squeeze Gerard's wrist.

"Thank you, Gerard. I couldn't have chosen better if I'd bought them myself," he says. 

"I could never actually pay back everything you've done for me since I got here, but I figure I can try," Gerard says earnestly. Grant lifts an eyebrow at him over the sunglass frame. 

"I don't expect payback, Gerard."

"I know," Gerard replies. "It's not… okay, it's less payback and more I just want to make you happy when I can." 

"So, Tuesdays are for presents. Okay," Grant says. "But you make me happy on other days of the week, too. Some of them," he teases. 

"The ones where you see me?" Gerard offers. His stomach is doing this weird swimmy thing. Is this flirting?

"Precisely," Grant responds and asks, "Any exciting plans for the next few days?" 

"Not really. More drawing," Gerard replies.

"You sound gloomier than I would have expected about that. May I try to convince you to change your plans?"

"It won't take much effort on your part," Gerard says with a rueful grin. "I'm forcing myself to finish all the boring pages I put off doing when I started on the issue. Someday, I'll manage to do it the opposite way and have lots of fun pages to draw the closer I get to deadline."

Grant laughs. "Well, as long as it doesn't interfere with your deadline too much, I was thinking of going to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival. It's a bit last minute, but I can probably wrangle lodging for us." 

"The Fringe? We were talking about that the other -" Gerard cuts himself off. "And you remembered." He smiles. "Well, it is Tuesday."

"Good. I'll get everything arranged. Have you been to Edinburgh yet?" Grant asks. 

"I haven't! I've been wanting to, though." 

"Then we'll make sure to do some proper tourist shit," Grant says and grins at him. 

"I love this plan! I'm excited to be a part of it," Gerard quotes at him. 

"Oh, scram," Grant says, waving a hand at him. Gerard laughs. 

"Yeah, I have to go anyway. Call me about the festival?"

"I will," Grant says, takes off the sunglasses, and looks Gerard straight in the eye. "Thank you, Gerard." 

Gerard forces himself to hold Grant's gaze and not look away - or blush. "You're welcome." 

*

Grant picks him up to drive to Edinburgh late Friday afternoon. Gerard tosses his bag in the back of Grant's Land Rover and grins to see Grant in the sunglasses Gerard bought him. 

"Edinburgh," Grant drones in a plummy documentary-style voice, then proceeds to actually make a quick history lesson fascinating. The drive to Edinburgh is shorter than Gerard expects. 

Grant laughs at him when he says so. "Americans have an inflated view of distance."

They're quiet for a few minutes as Grant navigates through narrow streets to a car park, but when they finally pull into a space Grant looks at Gerard and says, "I'm starving."

"So am I." 

Grant looks at his watch. "We have just enough time to get dinner before the first show." He takes a moment to check the street signs and holds an arm out to Gerard. "This way. Will a curry suit?"

Gerard curls his hand around Grant's elbow. "Definitely." 

True to his word, it's only a short walk before they reach the restaurant Grant was aiming for and they're sitting and eating in no time. Grant tells Gerard a story about the first time he remembers coming to Edinburgh and how he got lost.

"There's a castle on a giant hill," Gerard points out.

Grant laughs. "In my defense, the street I was looking for was not well-marked. Don't tell me you never got lost in New York City when all you had to do is look up to get your bearings." 

"Looking up is for tourists." Gerard laughs. "If I'm wandering around Edinburgh staring at the castle, you promise you won't let me fall on my face?"

"I'll keep hold of you," Grant assures him and reaches across the table to tap the back of his hand. 

They finish dinner with just enough time, as Grant had predicted, to walk to the venue for the first night's event - a post-apocalyptic musical.

Gerard loves it completely, which has Grant looking very self-satisfied as they walk to the hotel. "I knew you would. Just given the themes, never mind the setting." 

"I just love... well, art, music, theater, all rolled up into one like that. It's just so powerful. It's one thing I miss sometimes - I always liked performing, as a kid."

"Have you ever thought about going back to it? Doing community theater or something?" Grant asks. 

"I hadn't really thought of doing that. I probably couldn't since I'm so busy, but it's something to think about," Gerard answers. He does sort of like the idea. 

Grant's got his hands full leading Gerard back through the streets to the car park - they light up the castle at night, it is so fucking neat - and when they grab their duffel bags it's a matter of moments to walk across the street to a neat little green-painted door.

Grant opens the door and gestures Gerard inside. The lobby of the B&B is tiny, but fucking adorable. It's everything Gerard ever imagined a small, quaint B&B in Europe to be. Grant goes up to the desk and rings the bell and is greeted personally by the small blonde woman who comes through the door behind the desk. 

"Hullo, Gabby," he says. "I know it's awfully late. Thanks again for shoehorning us in." 

"Anything for you, love," she answers, a trace of an accent in her voice. French, maybe. "It's a small garret room, but it was the last double we had." She looks curiously at Gerard.

"Gerard, this is my dear friend Gabby," Grant says. "We met a million years ago when we were both punks making music." 

"Nice to meet you," Gerard says with a grin. 

"Gerard is an artist and writer who inherited a house a few minutes' walk from mine," Grant continues.

"American import?" Gabby asks. 

"What, it shows?" Gerard laughs.

"This is his first time in Edinburgh," Grant tells her.

"And you brought him to the Fringe. Well, I hope you are planning on playing tour guide as well." 

"I just want to see the castle," Gerard says earnestly. "I always wanted to be a knight." 

"Poor Yank," Grant says. Gabby smiles as she finishes the registration in her book and hands him a key out of a drawer. 

"Breakfast until ten, lovey," she says to Grant. "Call down if your room is lacking anything." 

"I'm sure it's perfect, Gabby. It always is," he says and leads Gerard to the stairs. Because there is no elevator. They climb the stairs all the way up to the top. The walls of the stairwell are covered in amazing art and Gerard has to keep himself from stopping to look.

"Gabby's partner Bridget is an art teacher," Grant says as they climb, and Gerard murmurs something in response. He's getting more and more sleepy with each stair, finding his eyes focusing mostly unseeing on one thing or another: the carpet runner on the stairs. Grant's really rather attractive arse, because it is right in front of him. Gerard sighs.

"Ready to sleep, love?" Grant asks when they reach the attic landing. Gerard nods. 

Grant takes the bed closest to the door and Gerard shuffles to the one by the window. Despite his tiredness, he can't help but twitch open the curtains over the small window to look out. "Ohhh," he breathes. 

"Lovely, isn't it?" Grant says quietly from just behind him. "But you'll have time to look more in the morning, love," he adds, tugging the curtain closed again. "I saw the WC, it's on the third floor landing." Gerard turns. Grant's already holding a toiletry kit in his hand. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't fall asleep yet."

Gerard changes into his pajamas. They have AT-ATs on them, but they were the only ones that were clean and they were a gift from Mikey, and somehow he doesn't think Grant will judge him for them. He grabs the remote to the television and sits cross-legged on the bed. Maybe he can find Doctor Who while he waits for Grant. 

Amazingly, he falls asleep even before Grant returns, and wakes with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your turn," Grant murmurs. Gerard grumbles and rifles through his bag for his own toothbrush. This time, it's Grant who has fallen asleep propped against his pillows by the time Gerard returns. 

Gerard makes sure the door is locked, steals the remote from Grant's hand to turn off the TV, and crawls into his own bed. He's asleep within moments and doesn't wake up until he hears Grant leave the room for the bathroom the next morning. He sits up and looks blearily around him. He hadn't paid it much attention the night before, but the room itself is just as charming as the rest of the hotel. And the art hanging between the windows is just as intriguing as what was on the stairs. 

He gives in to the urge to get up and inspect it this time, and when Grant walks back in the room, he gives Gerard a once-over and grins. "Nice pajamas." Grant's are, unsurprisingly, plain and expensive-looking and made out of some insanely soft-looking cotton. 

"Tell me you brought a kilt this time," Gerard says over a yawn. "I'm starting to get disappointed. I mean, there's a castle up there. It would be appropriate, right?"

"Still with the kilt," Grant says. 

"Always with the kilt. Your friend has cool art," he says, changing the subject before it can get any more precarious.

"Bridget collects folk art and art by kids," Grant explains. "She might be at breakfast. She's the early riser." 

"Cool," Gerard mumbles. 

"You're not, are you?" Grant teases. "Don't worry, I shall fortify you with coffee before we set out for the day." They're planning on visiting several art installations and seeing both a play and a musical performance. It's going to be a busy day.

They get ready quickly and go down to breakfast. "Grant!" a voice says and a slender brunette in a tracksuit wraps Grant in a tight hug. Grant hugs her back. 

"Hello, Bridget," he tells the top of her head. 

"When Gabby said you were staying the weekend, I could barely believe it. It's been a long time since you graced us with your shiny, bald head," she teases as she pulls back. 

"Hush, you're making me sound ancient in front of Gerard," Grant counters. 

"Gerard, eh?" Bridget has the same brogue Gerard has gotten so used to over the past months, and right now she's giving him a very obvious up-and-down inspection. "Hello, lad."

"Hi! It's really great to meet you. The art here is fucking amazing," he gushes. 

"Now, what's a nice boy like you doing with a blighter like this?" she asks. 

"He found me by the side of the road, actually," Gerard tells her.

"I did. He's not as innocent as he seems," Grant says and reaches out to tug on Gerard's hair. Gerard swats his hand away, but he can't help grinning.

"Well, that's just how you like them, isn't it?" Bridget teases. 

Is it? Gerard turns away to the coffeepot to hide his flushed face. 

"I can't deny it," Grant says. Gerard bites his lip and stirs sugar into his coffee. "So how goes teaching, Bridg?" Grant asks. 

Bridget dishes them both up an overflowing plate of breakfast foods and chatters to Grant about her current classes. Gerard asks a few questions but mostly concentrates on his plate. He's still thinking about how Grant - about how Bridget - well, about how they both talked about Gerard like he was Grant's boyfriend, not just a friend.

He… absolutely doesn't hate the idea. But perhaps Grant just thinks it's easier not to explain? He doesn't know. They finish their breakfast and set out for the day and then it's go-go-go for a while. It's at the art exhibition where Gerard notices something else he previously hadn't: while they spend most of their time walking around, Grant is apparently fond of slinging an arm around Gerard's shoulders any time they're stood together for any length of time.

It feels so natural, Gerard apparently hasn't even noticed, just automatically turns into his side as they chat. When someone calls Grant's name, Gerard startles and moves to pull away, but Grant tightens his hold around Gerard's shoulders and turns toward the sound of the voice. 

"Grant! Mozza!" It's a gangly middle-aged man in glasses, and Grant holds out his free hand immediately for a handshake. 

"Hello, Steve. It's been ages."

"Long enough that I don't even recognize your boyfriend, you cad."

"Steve, this is Gerard," Grant says. He doesn't bother to correct him, either. "Gerard's currently doing art for _JLA_ and working on his own book, _The Umbrella Academy_." 

"Oh! Now that I do recognize," Steve says. "Wonderful to meet you, Gerard." Gerard reaches out and shakes back, but It takes him half a second to connect the dots. 

"Oh! Steve Yeowell! I am a huge fan. What are you doing in Edinburgh?"

"My wife's family is here. We're visiting for a week or so. Great to run into you both."

"Can I tempt you into tea?" Grant asks.

Steve grimaces. "I don't think I have the time. I have to meet my in-laws in about twenty minutes. I am delighted to see you though, Mozza, and to meet you, Gerard." 

"Absolutely. Ring me up sometime and we'll chat. I miss working with you," Grant tells him. Steve heads for the doors and Gerard turns his gaze back to the art in front of them, acutely aware of Grant's arm around his shoulders. 

"How about you, Gerard?" Grant asks. "Tea? Do you need a break? We could do an early supper before the start time for that play."

"Supper sounds nice," Gerard replies. 

"Then supper it shall be," Grant murmurs and leads him toward the door. Once Gerard gets some food and more caffeine in him, he feels a little bit more balanced and confident and dinner is fun. The play is totally fascinating and totally infuriating and they talk about it animatedly the whole way to the concert.

The concert is being held outdoors, but the square is crowded. Grant is tall enough to spot a tiny space on the lip of a planter box where they can perch to listen. They crowd together without regard for personal space and this time Gerard notices but doesn't feel awkward about it. He likes it. A lot. He's actually disappointed when the show is over and there's suddenly a normal amount of distance between them. 

They stop at pub for a few, then a fish and chip shop on the way back to the B&B. Grant seems a bit tipsy - pleasantly so - and drapes his arm around Gerard again, humming under his breath as they share some chips on the walk home. It's a pleasant evening and Gerard keeps looking up at the castle. He's looking forward to seeing it up close tomorrow morning. 

"You look like a kid on Christmas Eve," Grant tells him, playing with the loose strands of hair at the back of Gerard's neck. "Are you going to jump on my bed and wake me up tomorrow, Gerard?"

Gerard giggles and is very glad it's dark enough that Grant can't see his blush. "Maybe I will, just to be an asshole," Gerard says. Grant laughs and claps him on the shoulder. 

"I shall attempt to prepare for that eventuality." 

"When you least expect it..." Gerard says portentously.

As they arrive back at the B&B and go up to get ready for bed, Gerard is back to being acutely aware of Grant and where he is in the room. When they're finally in bed, he's tired but still keyed up, still riding on the adrenaline from the concert. He can't stop thinking about Grant. He wonders what Grant would do if he got in bed with him. 

Not much, Gerard thinks. Bolstered by a few beers and a bellyful of warm chips, Grant had clearly been heavy-lidded and content on their walk home. He'd probably just tug Gerard against his chest and go to sleep. But maybe he wouldn't. Maybe Gerard would get that smiling, finely-sculpted mouth pressed against his temple. His cheek. His lips.

He swallows and turns over so he's facing away from Grant. He'd realized his crush, of course he had. But this. He's almost stunned by how much he wants Grant in this moment. 

Grant, who he'd thought was asleep. Grant, who says quietly at this very moment, "Thank you for today, Gerard." 

Gerard has to clear his throat before he can respond. "No, thank you. It's been perfect." 

"Good," Grant says. "Sleep well." 

"You too," Gerard whispers. He absolutely cannot handle knowing Grant has been three feet away, in the dark, thinking about him. So he screws his eyes shut and counts his breaths until he does fall asleep. 

He does wake up early the next morning, but he doesn't get up to jump on Grant's bed. He just turns on his side and watches Grant until he starts to stir. 

"I can feel you staring," Grant grumbles amiably. "That's creepy, young Skywalker." 

"I am a creepy dude," Gerard allows. 

"I suppose I am too since I did the same thing to you yesterday," Grant says and opens his eyes to look at Gerard. 

"I know we are three stories away from the coffee, but I swear I can smell it," Gerard tells him. 

"Well, then. Once more unto the breach." 

"Creepy nerd," Gerard comments. 

"Great minds." Grant throws back the covers. He slept shirtless the night before and Gerard has a very hard time not letting his eyes linger on Grant's torso. He gets up and makes himself busy instead. They take turns in the bathroom again, and Grant laughs his head off when he comes back upstairs and finds Gerard wearing his favorite Hawaiian shirt. Gerard raises an eyebrow. 

"I'm a tourist," he says. 

"You are delightful," Grant replies. "Let's go get you some coffee. The castle awaits."

The castle is fucking amazing. The entire weekend has been great, all the art, the shows, the plays, the concerts, but Gerard is pretty sure the castle is his favorite part. They get lunch and drive home after that and Gerard finds himself very reluctant to get out of Grant's car when they pull up in front of his house. He's not ready for it all to end. 

"It's been lovely, Gerard. I'll call you," Grant says. 

"The best weekend. Thank you for taking me," Gerard replies and impulsively leans forward to kiss Grant's cheek before getting out. Grant pops the boot open and Gerard carries his bag inside. 

The house is cold. He goes upstairs to deposit his bag and discovers that it's clearly been raining. Raining enough that two of his buckets have overflowed. He grits his teeth and goes to check the rest. It's the same. He should have known something like this would happen. Should have known the perfect weekend would end horribly. 

*

He sucks it up and finally calls a roofer to get an estimate, at least. The number they give him makes him want to cry. He absolutely can't afford that at the moment. He can only hope to save up the money before it starts getting really cold. He spends a few hours googling roof repair and makes a trip to the hardware store. He nearly climbs up the ladder the moment he gets home and then realizes about twenty people will yell at him for it if they found out he did it without a spotter and thinks better of it. 

Suddenly all the energy just leaves him and he dumps everything in his foyer and drives to Grant's. It starts raining again about halfway there. Gerard laughs. He can't do anything else.

It's pouring hard enough when he gets there that by the time he reaches the front porch, he looks like he's been for a swim in the loch. Grant opens the door gratifyingly quickly when Gerard knocks and makes a sympathetic noise. "Ah, Gerard, the same thing happened to me when I dared go for my morning walk. Come in. There's a fire laid in my office, and I'll get you a towel and a jumper."

"Thanks," he murmurs and follows Grant to the office. Gerard sinks down on the hearth while Grant goes to get the towel and sweater. Grant comes back and Gerard rubs the towel over his head and when he's as dry as he's going to get, he puts on the sweater. Grant's standing next to him looking down fondly. 

"Bad day?" Grant asks and reaches out to run a hand through Gerard's hair. 

Gerard resists the urge to push up against Grant's hand like one of Grant's cats and twists the towel between his fingers. "Just the endless parade of home repairs," he says glumly. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

"You've been doing wonderfully so far," Grant says reassuringly. "Setbacks happen. That's when you come see a friend and have something warm to drink and forget your troubles for a while." 

Gerard nods. "Yeah." 

"And if none of those things work, I could be persuaded to show you some of the pages I just got back from Chris." Grant grins at the look on Gerard's face. "Yes, I've cracked your code, haven't I?" Gerard hands the towel back and starts to push himself to his feet. Grant waves him off. "No, no, stay there, love. You look cosy. I'll go put a kettle on and then hand over the digital goods."

Gerard's stomach flips over. "Okay," he says and it almost sounds normal and not how he feels, which is completely breathless. Not so much from Grant's words, but from the look on his face as he said it. The way he caressed Gerard's hair as he moved to go back down to the kitchen. 

Gerard huddles down in the sweater and takes a deep breath. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, although it's a pretty new development - new enough that Gerard hasn't quite decided what to do about it or even if he's imagining it. "Projecting," Mikey had called it the last time they talked. Gerard had grimaced at the phone, but Mikey's right. Gerard has developed a rather massive crush over the past month or two.

Which is fine. Manageable. He wouldn't give up being friends with Grant for anything, so he _has_ to manage it. But sometimes he wonders if it's just him. Maybe it's wishful thinking, maybe it's just Grant being himself. Gerard doesn't know. 

Grant returns with a big mug of coffee just how Gerard likes it and unearths his iPad from a stack of comics and paper. "I suppose situations like this are why I have this thing."

"When your friends are lazy and drenched?" Gerard asks pertly. 

"Yes, exactly." Grant taps on the screen for a few moments and then hands the tablet over, settling into the armchair next to where Gerard is sitting.

Gerard studies each page. The lettering and coloring aren't there yet, but it doesn't even matter. Chris is so good, Gerard can totally parse the basic gist of the story without needing the words. "Fuck, he's good," Gerard murmurs. "So are you. God, I can't wait to see the final product." 

"I am very fond of Chris, yes," Grant says. "When are you going to do a book with me, Gerard?"

"Whenever you want me," Gerard replies immediately. "Well. I'm booked on _JLA_ for the next three months, but I'll be done after that. I mean, I have Umbrella, but I'm always working on that." 

"Perhaps I'll just keep you here," Grant says. "My own captive artist." 

"If your roof doesn't leak, I'll probably say yes," Gerard jokes, but he can't help the look he shoots Grant from under his eyelashes as he hands the tablet back.

Grant stares back steadily, and hits a few keys on his PC. His printer starts whirring and he hands the pages to Gerard. "That's the script for the pencils you just looked at." 

"I - what?" 

"Just an experiment. Show me what you can do, Gerard. I have a feeling we'd work well together."

"I… okay. Yes. I think so too," Gerard says. 

"Do it when you can, I know you've got a million things on your plate and it's not urgent by any means," Grant tells him. Gerard nods and looks down at the pages in his hands. He laughs out loud at the first two sentences and knows he's going to get out his pencil and start the moment he gets home. 

They talk for a while longer and Gerard finishes his mug of tea. "You look a bit more cheerful now," Grant says, studying him slyly. 

"Yes," Gerard says with a huge mock sigh. "You know best, Grant." 

"It even stopped raining," Grant comments. "For now." 

"I guess I'd better go while the getting is good," Gerard replies. It's about the last thing in the world he actually wants to do.

*

Gerard wakes up huddled under three blankets and shivering. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck my life fuck." He is not ready for it to be getting this cold yet. It's like eleven pm at home so he calls Mikey. "Going to die in Scotland," he whines. 

"Grant wouldn't let you die," Mikey says. 

"He might. Sometimes we don't see each other for a few days. He'd have no way of knowing I'd frozen to death in my bed." 

"Is it that bad, Gee?" 

"The roof still leaks and I can't afford to fix it. The beams are probably rotting. If I don't freeze to death there's still mold or roof collapse." 

"Boy, you're cheery." 

"I like this stupid leaky house and I like it here, but if I can't get it sorted out in a workable way soon, I'm gonna have to give it up. And I don't fucking want to," Gerard says. He wants coffee and about seven layers of hoodies, but he also doesn't want to get out from under his covers. 

"Have you talked to Grant about any of this? Maybe he'd have some advice." 

"I -" Gerard hesitates. 

"Gerard," Mikey says firmly. "What is it?" 

"He recommended this great contractor, but I haven't exactly been honest with him about how much I can't afford that." 

"I'm saying this because you're my brother and I love you and I can," Mikey says. Gerard knows what's coming. "You're a moron." 

"I know! But I don't know what else to do." 

"Ask the super smart dude who spends all his free time with you to give you advice? Maybe you should tell him you're fucking in love with him while you're at it." Gerard doesn't say anything. He knows Mikey's right. At least about the first part. But he can't stop wanting to do this himself, to make it work. "Gee, it's okay to admit defeat here," Mikey says softly. 

"I... I'll think about it, Mikes." 

"Love you, Gee," Mikey says. 

"Love you too, Mikey. Tell me about what you're up to. I'm gonna make a fire. And coffee." 

"Don't burn the place down," Mikey advises. 

Mikey talks until they're both yawning, and by then Gerard's fire has warmed the parlor a bit and he is comfortable enough to fall back to sleep on his sofa. But he still doesn't know what he's going to do. 

*

When Grant calls later in the day to invite him over for dinner, Gerard says yes immediately. He puts the final touches on the pages Grant gave him to do while he waits for six pm to roll around. He drives his little car over to Grant's house. He's finally getting comfortable with the roads here. 

"You look exhausted," Grant says when he opens the door. Gerard grimaces. 

"I, ah, didn't anticipate the cold snap this morning. Woke up early and ended up making coffee and calling Mikey." 

"You could have said no to dinner, Gerard," Grant says gently. 

"Not if I wanted to see you," Gerard replies. "Besides, it's nice to get out of the house. And I have some pages for you." Gerard hands over the folder and forces himself not to immediately start chewing on his nails. 

"Pages already? Christ, that's fast." Grant opens the folder and goes very still and intent. "These are gorgeous. So different from Chris's, but still perfect. Gerard..." Grant fixes him with an intent look. 

"Yeah?" He bites the inside of his lip. 

"I have several creator owned projects I want to pitch soon. You'd be perfect for any one of them and I'd be thrilled if you wanted to work with me." 

"Can't say no to that," Gerard beams. 

Grant grins back. "Let's eat. I'll tell you about all the stories and you can take your pick." 

"What if I want to do all of them?" Gerard asks. He's only half joking. 

"Want me all to yourself, do you?" Grant chuckles. 

Gerard can't answer. Because - yes, so fucking much. Grant studies his face as Gerard tries to smile normally. He's saved by a timer going off in the kitchen. 

"It's just stew and some bread," Grant says, "but that sounded nice after the chilly day." 

"It's perfect," Gerard says. "Especially if you didn't cook it." He cocks a smile at Grant; Grant is fairly hopeless in the kitchen, too distractible, which Gerard knows. 

Grant gestures to Gerard to precede him into the kitchen, and Gerard reaches out to touch Grant's forearm lightly as he passes. Grant covers Gerard's hand with his. "I went to the pub in town and picked up both, if you must know." 

"I just don't want you to inadvertently poison me," Gerard teases. 

"Shall I promise to only poison you intentionally?" Grant inquires as he steers Gerard into a chair and seats himself opposite. 

"I'd prefer not to be poisoned at all, but if it was to happen, I suppose it'd be better if it were intentional," Gerard says. 

"I'd be rather devastated either way," Grant says seriously.

"Let's stop talking about me dying!" Gerard replies brightly. "I had enough of that at four this morning when I thought my fingers would freeze off."

Grant looks concerned. "What's your heating situation?" 

"Wood stove and a furnace that isn't quite up to par. Really, I just wasn't expecting it to be that cold, so I didn't do a good job of making the fire last night." It's all true. He just doesn't mention that the house needs new insulation and probably windows too. Gerard can practically hear Mikey berating him for evading the issue in his head, but Gerard is too fucking content - Grant ladling steaming soup into his bowl, the brush of his fingers as he passes the bread basket - and he doesn't want to confront anything right now. 

"Well then, we'll send you home warm and full and you'll know to turn up the thermostat tonight," Grant says. Gerard nods. 

"So tell me about these projects," Gerard prompts when Grant is settled back in his chair with his own food. 

Grant talks for almost three hours, through dinner and coffee and numerous interruptions from Gerard, who is increasingly convinced he actually did die and has unexpectedly progressed on an upward rather than a downward path. They migrate to the sitting room, to opposite ends of a small settee. 

*

Gerard is completely shocked to wake at sunrise the next morning, still on Grant's settee, with a heavy fleecy blanket tucked around him.

He blinks around the room. There's no sign of Grant at all. Gerard pushes back the blanket and sits up. He's pretty sure he slept better just now than he has in weeks. He shuffles into the kitchen and looks at the coffee maker. He doesn't know if he should just go, make Grant coffee, or what. After staring indecisively for a moment, he starts the coffee brewing, shuffles off to use the bathroom, then comes back to drink a cup of coffee. He leaves the pot on with a little note saying thank you. 

The sun is actually weakly shining this morning, and well-rested Gerard is a Gerard who is determined to actually climb up onto his roof today. He sees one of his neighbors, Mr. Conners, puttering around his little farmyard and pulls into the drive. 

"Morning, lad!" Mr. Conners calls out. 

"Good morning, Mr. Conners. I know you're a busy man, but I was wondering if there was any way you could spare a couple of hours to come stand at the bottom of a ladder later? I have some roof repairs I'd like to get to while I still have some nice weather." 

"Aye, that I can do," Connors says. When he knocks on the door shortly after lunchtime, Gerard gathers his supplies and takes a deep breath and climbs. It's...worse than he'd thought. Or maybe - doubtlessly - he just doesn't know what he's doing. But he grits his teeth and hammers patches into place and winces every time he nearly hammers a finger instead. 

Mr. Conners keeps up a steady stream of chatter. Tells him about some of the history of the house and the area. Gerard responds when he can and keeps patching until he's out of supplies. "Well, guess I have to wait until it rains to see if that did any good," he says as he climbs down the ladder. 

"It'll be a day or two yet," Mr. Conners says. " _The Scotsman_ says we're in for a day or two more of sun." When Gerard just looks at him in disbelief, Mr. Conners laughs. "Enjoy it while you can, lad." 

Gerard does - or, he does if using the time to clear debris out of his garden and replenish his woodpile counts as enjoyment. Gerard doesn't think even Mikey would recognize him now, in faded, stained jeans and a paint-spattered button-down. He talks on the phone a bit - to his mom, to Mikey, to a guy from Image who's following up on an email Grant apparently already sent mentioning their proposed collaboration. The one person who Gerard hasn't talked to is Grant himself. He's trying to give himself a little breathing room, but unfortunately at this point it only serves to make him twitchy, and when Gerard wakes two nights later to the utterly infuriating sound of water dripping, he has suddenly just. Had enough. 

He sits up and rubs his hands over his face. He can't do this anymore. Can't keep lying to himself, can't keep desperately trying to convince himself that he can make this work. He wants to cry, but he can't even seem to do that. 

It's late. Too late. Gerard wishes he could just go over to Grant's and sit at his kitchen table and try to make himself feel better. He sits at his own kitchen table for the rest of the night, drawing page after page of thumbnails and drinking weak but scalding hot tea. As soon as it's reasonably morning, he calls Grant. "I need to talk to you," he says. 

"Of course," Grant says evenly. "I was going to suggest a bit of an outing this weekend. Perhaps we can go today if the weather clears a bit. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Okay," Gerard says quietly. 

"Gerard? Whatever it is, we'll sort it out," Grant says. Gerard supposes his tone isn't exactly hiding anything. 

"That's the thing, I'm kind of beyond sorting, I think."

*

It does clear up a bit, sometime before teatime, and Grant comes and picks Gerard up and drives him along the loch until he comes to a rather ill-maintained back road. Gerard has never been there before, but he is not at all surprised to see the ruins of a small tower and a stone wall rising from the hillside. Grant doesn't let him get out, though, lays a hand over Gerard's to keep him in his seat. "Explain?" 

Gerard takes a deep breath. "The house is too much. Every time I get something fixed, another thing breaks. The roof needs replacing, the windows need replacing, I don't even want to think about the damage all the leaks have done to everything. I'm to the point that I've sunk all the money I can into it. I have enough left of my savings to buy a ticket back to Jersey and that's it." Now the tears come. He blinks hard and swipes angrily at his cheeks. "I'm going to have to sell it. I never even wanted it in the first place and now I can't keep it and it is killing me. Also, I basically lied to you every time you asked, and I'm really fucking sorry about that." 

"Forgiven," Grant says quietly. "How about a walk now?" He doesn't say anything else. He's not offering advice Gerard hasn't asked for, which is actually a relief.

They walk up to the tower and Grant leads him around the ruin. "Best to not go in, but we can peer through the doorway," Grant says. They do so and then he follows Grant to the wall and they scramble up on top of a sturdy part and look down over the valley. 

"The thing is," Gerard says, "I don't want to leave." He watches a curl of mist float through the valley below them, traces the hopping progress of a small brown bird pecking at the mossy stones. "It would be a lot easier to give up if I hated it here. If I could even convince myself it wasn't the right place for me. But I don't hate it. It's gorgeous."

"It's infinitely more gorgeous with you here," Grant says quietly. Gerard sucks in a breath and looks at Grant. Who's looking at him like Gerard has been hoping he would. 

"Grant," Gerard whispers. Grant reaches over and takes Gerard's hand. 

"I don't want you to leave, either."

"You couldn't have said something before I actually have to?" Gerard asks with a sad little laugh.

"I was working up to it. You rushed my timetable a bit just now," Grant says fondly, tugging him close. He lifts a hand and cups Gerard's cheek. "Don't leave. We'll figure something out," he whispers.

"Okay," Gerard whispers back, wraps his arms around Grant's waist, and leans in to kiss him. Grant holds Gerard close with one hand and the other sneaks into his hair. 

It feels strangely familiar when their lips touch, deliciously strange when Grant's tongue teases his. It's slow but not gentle, Grant's mouth as demanding as his touch is soothing. "I've been waiting for this," he whispers against Gerard's lips.

"Fuck, me too," Gerard replies and tightens his arms around Grant. 

"We should get off this wall before we fall off," Grant says. 

Gerard nods, but he doesn't want to move. Being in Grant's arms feels too good to stop for long. 

Finally, Grant steers him back toward the car. "Get in," Grant says. "We're going back to your house, and we're packing you a bag, and you're coming back to mine until we figure out what to do about your roof. Also, I'd rather like to get your clothes off." He grins cheekily, and Gerard bites his lip and smiles back.

Gerard can't even describe how much better he feels. And it's not just that he knows Grant has feelings for him. It's the fact that Grant knows about everything now and Gerard isn't alone in trying to figure this shit out anymore. 

Packing a bag takes longer than anticipated. Partly because Gerard needs to bring all his art supplies and laptop and scanner too, and partly because Grant keeps distracting him with kisses. 

"I'm trying to hurry," Gerard mumbles against Grant's lips. 

"Don't on my account," Grant says. 

"I've got to," Gerard says. "You're making me impatient."

Grant kisses him one last time and steps back, putting his hands behind his back and grinning at Gerard. "I shall behave now." 

Gerard laughs and steps into Grant's space. "See, but you set a precedent and now I just can't go that long without kissing you."

"Well, if you insist." 

It takes about twice as long as it should to finish packing, but soon they're back in the car and on the way to Grant's. They make small talk together but Grant's free hand, when it's not on the gear shift, rests high on Gerard's thigh, and Gerard's stomach twists pleasurably with anticipation.

Grant has Gerard leave his art supplies in the living room, slings one of the other bags over his shoulder and leads Gerard up to the bedroom. This is the only room in the house that Gerard hasn't seen more than a few brief glimpses of. Gerard looks around curiously until Grant takes his bag from him, sets it on the floor, and tugs Gerard close. 

"The scenery will still be there later," he says. "But this is straight from my imagination - you, here. My mental image often incorporates a Hawaiian shirt and wellies, I admit." 

"From -" 

"Our first meeting, yes. I'd have had you then if I'd been able to. You have no idea how appealing you were." 

"You're insane," Gerard laughs.

Grant just smiles and tugs Gerard's hips against his. Gerard gasps. "Oh, fuck." 

"That's the point," Grant says with a chuckle. Gerard slips his hands under Grant's shirt to stroke his sides and back. 

"I think you said something about nakedness?" Gerard says. 

"I said I wanted to get your clothes off," Grant answers. 

"Well, the feeling's mutual," Gerard says, tugging at Grant's jacket, which he obligingly slips off his shoulders. Gerard pushes the hem of Grant's tee shirt up, dipping his head to press his lips against Grant's stomach, his ribs, his chest as they're exposed, and Grant drops the discarded shirt onto the floor, then lifts Gerard's chin. 

"Your turn."

Grant unbuttons Gerard's shirt, caressing Gerard's chest and stomach as he goes down. He pushes the shirt down Gerard's shoulders and lets it rest tangled around his wrists while he slides his mouth over Gerard's clavicles and up his neck. He lets his hands wander all over Gerard's chest and stomach, over his nipples. Gerard shivers. 

"You really are gorgeous," Grant murmurs. Gerard shudders hard when Grant dips his head again to suck at the skin stretched over Gerard's collarbone and nip at the base of his throat. He pushes a hand through Gerard's hair, tipping his head up to kiss the underside of his jaw, and the hollow behind his ear, and every single sensitive spot that Gerard has, that Grant somehow unerringly finds. When Gerard can't take it anymore he tucks his fingers behind Grant's belt buckle and lets himself sink more or less gracefully to his knees.

He looks up into Grant's eyes for a moment. "God, I've been wanting to do this so long." Gerard goes for Grant's belt and the button and zip of his pants. He gets them down around Grant's thighs and leans forward to nuzzle at Grant's hard cock through his briefs. 

Grant just lets out a little "Ah!" and his hand drops gently back onto Gerard's head, fingers curling loosely into Gerard's hair. Gerard lifts his head to nose along the cut of Grant's hip, his little belly and the scar curling down his abdomen, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Grant's briefs and tugging them down just enough to expose the head of Grant's cock. He touches his tongue to it, just a taste, an experimental lick, and Grant murmurs again. "Gerard," he says a bit thickly.

Gerard swirls his tongue around the head and then wraps a hand around the base of Grant's cock and leans forward to take it in his mouth. He's huge and Gerard's lips are stretched wide around him. 

"Fucking hell, Gerard," Grant murmurs. 

"Mmf," Gerard says, then pulls off and pants while he keeps stroking the shaft. "Motherfucker, that's -" God, Grant feels good, and tastes good and - "I, please, Grant, what do you want?" He wraps his lips around Grant's cock again without waiting for an answer, sucking hard at the head before sinking down and taking as much as he can into his mouth and swallowing around it.

Grant gasps and his fingers clench. "I want this. I want to fuck you." Gerard moans around Grant's cock. He pulls back again. 

"Tell me when to stop," he says breathlessly and goes back down. Grant reaches out to trace his finger around Gerard's lips. 

"Your mouth is amazing," Grant whispers. His hand firms on Gerard's skull and he makes a few gentle, experimental thrusts into Gerard's mouth. Gerard moans again, tugging at Grant's hips to encourage him, but Grant pulls back, dick slipping out of Gerard's mouth with a wet noise. "Not if you want more, love." He steps back and pushes his pants and briefs and shoes off into a messy pile and grasps Gerard's shoulders to lift him back to his feet.

Grant goes immediately for Gerard's pants and underwear and gets them off before Gerard even has a chance to blink. He straightens up and wraps a hand around Gerard's cock and Gerard moans loud. "Grant. I can't. Want you so bad." Grant gives him a few good strokes and then his hands go to Gerard's hips and he backs them up to the bed and pulls Gerard down into his lap. 

Gerard settles onto Grant's lap, legs straddling his hips. Their dicks rub together, skin sliding against skin with a velvety drag. Gerard rolls his hips experimentally and gasps at the resulting friction. He lifts his hands to curve around the sides of Grant's head and presses their mouths together again. He could kiss Grant forever. Grant's hands wander all over Gerard's body, from hips to thighs, back up to his back and then his shoulders, one twisting into his hair and the other keeping them pressed chest-to-chest as he leans back against the pillows.

Gerard lets his legs tangle with Grant's and keeps kissing him. He can't help but move his hips against Grant's, just to feel him. Grant's hands slide down his back to cup his ass. His fingers slide down the cleft and Gerard gasps into his mouth, "I need you to fuck me so bad." 

"Yes," Grant murmurs, "Oh yes, I can tell, love. Roll over, then." Gerard pushes himself up and off of Grant reluctantly, arranging himself more comfortably on the mattress while Grant reaches to a bedside drawer for supplies. He just looks at Gerard for a moment, devouring his body with long sweeps of his dark eyes as he slicks his fingers and lifts one of Gerard's knees to the side.

Grant strokes the skin all around Gerard's hole then slides one finger slowly inside. Gerard pants and fuck, he wants more already. Grant's got a look on his face that says he probably won't give it to Gerard until he's good and ready. "Grant," he moans. 

"So tight," Grant murmurs. He doesn't stop moving his finger, but his thrusts are slow and deliberate, gentle as his mouth pressing soft kisses to Gerard's bent knee. "You should see your face, love." 

Gerard whines. He doesn't need to see his face; he feels dazed, flushed with need and already breathing hard. Grant looks much the same, two spots of red high on his cheeks, eyes glazed but intent, lips shining as he runs his tongue over them. He shushes Gerard and slowly pushes in a second finger beside the first.

"Fuck," Gerard gasps. He can't stop himself from thrusting against Grant's fingers this time and Grant lets him for a moment then tightens his hand on Gerard's hip and holds him still. He kisses his way down Gerard's thigh and takes the head of his cock in his mouth for just a moment before pulling back, crooking his fingers and stroking over Gerard's prostate. 

Gerard swears again. He can't take much more of this, especially of Grant licking his lips again and whispering, "You taste so good, love. _Gerard._ " He crooks his fingers again and Gerard bucks up into his hands. "All right, you've more than earned it," Grant says with a low laugh. He pulls his fingers out then and Gerard bites back the whine when he sees Grant reach for a condom wrapper, tear it open and roll the condom on.

Grant slicks himself and moves to line himself up. Gerard bites his lip and and reaches for his cock. Grant clamps a hand around his wrist before he gets there. 

"I need... I don't wanna..." 

Grant smirks and wraps wraps his fingers tightly around the base of Gerard's cock. "Is that what you need?" he murmurs. Gerard nods and Grant slowly, carefully pushes inside. The stretch is almost too much, which means it's fucking perfect. 

Gerard grips the sheets and breathes heavily. "Grant. Fuck." 

Grant helps Gerard drape one of his legs over Grant's shoulder and braces himself to start thrusting. He starts slow, just like he did with his fingers. Gerard can only breathe. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feel of Grant sliding in and out, on Grant's fingers around his cock. Gerard can't help the arch of his back, the way he grinds down against Grant's cock. It feels too good, even, for words. If he tries he'll just babble. 

"So needy," Grant murmurs and starts thrusting harder. 

"Yes," is all Gerard can say. 

Grant lets the ring of his fingers around Gerard's cock relax and he starts stroking. "I don't think I've ever seen you this speechless, love," he murmurs breathlessly. 

"How about when I was - sucking you off?" Gerard pants, pushing up into Grant's grip. 

"Ah, yes," Grant purrs. "Next time I want to come in your mouth, you beautiful thing." 

"Yes. Fuck yes," Gerard replies. Grant leans down and Gerard pushes up on an elbow and their mouths crush together. Gerard shifts his legs and Grant lets him take more of his body weight. Gerard wraps his arms tightly around him and rolls. Grant grins and goes with it, letting Gerard resettle himself so he's riding Grant's dick. "Oh, fuck," Gerard says. This is just right. He rolls his hips and Grant reaches for his cock again and Gerard moans. 

"Let me watch you," Grant murmurs, stroking Gerard fast and expertly. He doesn't let up with the thrusts, either, fucking up into Gerard steadily and reaching up to trace his jaw with his free hand. Gerard turns his head and sucks Grant's fingers into his mouth.

"Gerard," Grant gasps, but his strokes stay steady and sure. Grant pulls his fingers from Gerard's mouth and strokes over Gerard's nipples. When the air hits them, they harden, and Gerard sucks in a breath.

"Do that again."

Grant lifts a hand and wraps it around the back of Gerard's neck, tugging him down for a kiss before shifting his mouth to Gerard's chest, sucking one nipple into a tight point then gently lapping at it with his tongue.

Gerard rolls his hips and clenches around Grant's cock. Grant moans and his teeth close around Gerard's nipple. It's not a hard bite, but it's enough to make Gerard shudder and let out a broken string of curses. 

"Yeah?" Grant mutters. He pinches the other nipple between his fingers as he sucks on the bitten one, and Gerard arches his back, throwing his head back and fucking down hard onto Grant's cock. 

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck, fuck, now," he chants. Grant jerks him fast with a twist at the head and Gerard lets out a moan and clamps his hands on his own thighs as he comes hard.

He's still shaking when Grant's arms wrap around his back and pull him down so they're chest to chest. He fucks up into Gerard hard, once, twice, three more times and then he's coming too, his moan muffled against Gerard's lips. Grant kisses him for a minute more, but pulls out before they both get too sensitive. He gets rid of the condom, then wraps his arms around Gerard and pulls him close again. Come smears between their bellies but Gerard doesn't care. His entire body is tingling faintly and Grant's mouth is warm and soft and lazy against his.

"Grant," Gerard whispers against his lips. 

"Yes, love?" 

"Nothing. Just..." Gerard trails off and strokes his tongue against Grant's. 

Grant hums into his mouth. "I didn't know it was possible to be so utterly smitten so quickly," he murmurs, sounding content. 

"It's been months," Gerard protests, biting gently at Grant's jaw. 

"I was smitten that first day," Grant corrects. "I haven't changed my mind, though."

Gerard sucks Grant's earlobe into his mouth. "I realized when you offered to massage my hands," he whispers into Grant's ear. 

"So we really could have been doing this for months," Grant whispers back. "Well, that offer does still stand. Come do a book with me, Gerard Way. You can escape your leaky roof and get a freelance gig with bonus hand massages. And all the fucking we have energy for," he adds wickedly. 

"That sounds perfect," Gerard says. He doesn't know how the whole house thing is going to work out, but at this very moment, he doesn't care so much. They'll sort it out. Both of them. Gerard sighs and curls more snugly into Grant's arms. 

"It's not even supper time yet," Grant tells him. 

"How do you feel about naps, and Round Two?" Gerard asks. He can feel Grant smile into his hair. 

"Positive," Grant answers.

*

Gerard sits down to ink a full page Batman and Superman scene for _JLA_ in Grant's (warm, dry) living room and calls Mikey for the first time in days. 

"I thought maybe you actually froze to death." 

"Sorry. Fucking timezones. And, uh..." Gerard hesitates.

"Well, if you're not dead, please tell me you confessed to Grant." 

"...and then some," Gerard grins ruefully. 

"Fucking finally," Mikey says. His relief is palpable over the line. Gerard grimaces and tries to ignore the guilty feeling churning in his belly for worrying Mikey. 

"He had me pack some bags and get out of the house. We don't have any solid plans yet, but I'm not freaking out anymore." 

"I'm sure you're way too busy doing other things," Mikey says in his most expressionless voice. "But for the love of god, don't tell me about it." 

Gerard chuckles. "Don't worry, I won't." 

"So you're happy?" Mikey asks. 

"Yeah, Mikes. I'm really fucking happy," Gerard replies. He's grinning just thinking about everything that's happened in the last few days. 

"I expect to meet him. So will mom and dad." 

"Duh," Gerard replies. "Was gonna have you come meet him anyway." 

"Mom and dad too," Mikey says. 

"Yeah, yeah. I live in another country. It's a bit difficult to introduce them to my boyfriend." Gerard doesn't realize until he's already ended the call what he'd said. _Live in another country. Boyfriend._ Somehow, even with the leaky roof and the cold and all the problems, this place became home. And Grant. Well, he's at least half of what makes it so good. 

When Grant comes downstairs to refill his coffee and grab some biscuits, Gerard corners him against the counter in the kitchen and rubs up against him until he's sure he has Grant's full attention. "I called home just now, reassured Mikey that I haven't died," Gerard says. "He wants to meet my boyfriend." 

"Does he? I'm sure we can arrange that," Grant says and turns. His hands tug Gerard's hips against his. "He's welcome here anytime you want to invite him. Or we can go there. Perhaps... we haven't spoken of it yet, I know, but how would you like to spend the winter in LA with me?" 

Gerard makes an exaggerated thoughtful face. "Hm. Warm weather and you. No, I think I'll just stay here alone." 

"Your choice," Grant says equitably, but his fingers betray his true thoughts, working their way into the waistband of Gerard's jeans. 

"I honestly can't think of anything better," Gerard admits. Grant leans down to kiss him. 

"Then perhaps we can make a stop in the New York area for a week or two on our way out?"

"You're gonna love Jersey," Gerard grins. "People tell me it's just like Glasgow." 

*

_**November**_

It's snowing. Gerard has never seen snow like this before. He feels like he's living in a snowglobe. "It's not even dirty," he marvels from his perch at Grant's office window. 

"It hasn't hit the ground yet," Grant points out.

"You have clearly never been to New Jersey."

"No, but I'm looking forward to it even more now," Grant drawls, and Gerard swivels around to look at him. He's leaning back in his desk chair with his hands clasped across his stomach, looking smug.

Gerard sticks out his tongue. Grant lifts an eyebrow at him, and Gerard imitates him. "Fine," Gerard says. "Mock me."

"Oh, I will."

"I'm reconsidering letting you meet Mikey," Gerard tells him. "Ever."

"What ever would we do with the cottage?" 

Shalott, minus all of Gerard's personal possessions that have migrated over to Grant's house, is fated to become a vacation cottage. Coming over for a visit when Grant and Gerard reopen Grant's house in the spring is all Gerard's parents and Mikey can talk about when he gets them on the phone these days. "That reminds me, did you ever talk to Gary's nephew?"

"Of course I did. He's anxious to move out of his mum's house. I already dropped the keys off with him. He's going to quote the repairs as he has time for them this winter, and deduct it out of the rent."

Gerard still can't believe that Grant was able to find a tenant for the cottage who's actually a handyman. More proof that Grant is magic. "You're a magician," Gerard tells him, going over and dropping onto his lap.

"Yes," Grant says. "In fact, I am."

Gerard drops his fingers to the top button of Grant's shirt and toys with it. "Explain sigils to me again?"

Grant's hands tighten on Gerard's waist and tug him closer. "I wouldn't have taken you for a slow learner."

Gerard leans in to nose under Grant's ear. "I'm not," he whispers. "But I do like listening to you talk."

"I suspect you like other parts of the process more."

"You may be right." Gerard nips at Grant's earlobe, and Grant turns his head to catch his lips instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out the mix and art created for this story!
> 
> [Mix (LJ)](http://fleurdeliser.livejournal.com/183598.html)/[Mix (DW)](http://fleurdeliser.dreamwidth.org/178292.html) by [](http://wordslinging.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**wordslinging**](http://wordslinging.dreamwidth.org/)  
> [ART (LJ)](http://fleurdeliser.livejournal.com/183940.html)/[Art (DW)](http://fleurdeliser.dreamwidth.org/178518.html) by [](http://turlough.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**turlough**](http://turlough.dreamwidth.org/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for fleurdeliser & tuesdaysgone's 'I'll Repair For You (When The Roof Starts To Fall)'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/493339) by [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/pseuds/turlough)




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